


Ignition

by ghaskan



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, No Spoilers, board game au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghaskan/pseuds/ghaskan
Summary: Hoshi Ryouma's will to live has been snuffed out within the depths of his guilt. Could someone be able to pull him out of the muddy waters drowning him?[Since this is an Board Game-esque AU, I consider this work to have no spoilers. However it is possible that I will further explore events in Hoshi and Nidai's FTEs down the line.]





	1. I

A bell rang, signaling the end of first period in Hope’s Peak Academy. Hoshi Ryouma stayed a while, feet dangling as he waited for his classmates to start pouring out of the classroom. Having gulped down the stub of what had once been a chocolate cigarette, Hoshi leaped from the wall. Like a cat, he landed on the pavement stretching in front of the school gates without a hitch. He dusted off his jacket and scurried away from the incoming crowd of students who were sure to ask too many questions if they saw him.

“Hey, Hoshi! Wait!”

Hoshi glanced back. After spotting an inconspicuous bundle of purple spikes poking through the throng, he pulled his beanie over his eyes and hastened his pace. Good grief. That was the last person Hoshi wanted to talk to.

Two blocks later, Hoshi slipped into a convenience store, wherein he bought a jumbo-sized package of dried sardines. Striving to attend the afternoon classes, he left munching on a handful of sardines. While Hoshi didn’t care about his academic record, his teachers did, and they would nag him if he failed to meet the minimum attendance requirements. It wouldn’t be cool to make them waste their time on someone like him.

After throwing away the emptied package in a nearby trash can, Hoshi approached a tall tree standing next to the wall encircling the school grounds. Taking a deep breath, he crouched down like a coiled spring, then jumped, bouncing between tree’s trunk and the wall until he reached the latter’s top. Not giving the other students time to notice him, Hoshi plunged into the crowd, pushing his way through it and into the classroom.

“Cryptid spotted!” a boy wearing a strapped, white suit announced in a falsetto the moment Hoshi stepped in.

A blonde girl stood in Hoshi’s way with her hands clasped together. “Ah, Hoshi-kun! I’m so glad you could join us for second period!”

“Yeah, sure," Hoshi grumbled as he walked past her.

He had yet to overcome the biggest obstacle in the way to his back row seat, however.

“Ya done pickin’ up pussies, Hoeshi?” a girl in a pink sailor uniform shouted. Hoshi lowered his beanie to shield his face from the saliva sputtering from her mouth as she burst into a loud guffaw.

After she was done, Hoshi glared at her with fishlike eyes. Whimpering, she stepped aside. Having finally arrived at his desk, Hoshi sprawled out on the chair behind it.

Gripping the bill of his cap, the boy sitting in front of Hoshi turned around. “H-Hoshi-kun, wouldn’t it be better for you to sit upright? If you stay like that, the teacher might scold you...”

Hoshi dismissed his concerns with a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t rack your brains too hard, Saihara,” he said. “I’m used to it.”

“Look who it is! You fuckin’ bastard!”

All eyes in the classroom fell on the newcomer, the same purple-haired boy Hoshi had ran away from in the morning. Fuming as loudly as a boiling pressure cooker, the boy stormed towards Hoshi’s seat, and smashed a closed fist on the desk.

“Spineless jerk,” the purple-haired haired boy barked, “Stop tryin’ to run away from others! You’re attendin’ a fuckin’ school, dammit! Playin’ the loner won’t make ya cool, ya damned loser!”

A humming wave swept through the classroom. The boy in the white suit prodded the girl in the pink sailor uniform, and they started a lively discussion on who would win the upcoming brawl. A girl in a yellow smock stood from her seat, waving her arms in the air while she chanted, “Fight-O! Fight-O!”

“M-Momota-kun!” Saihara said, trying to cool down the purple-haired boy’s spirits.

Ignoring the background buzz, Momota pressed on. “Well? Say something!”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Hoshi said. “Least not anything you’d like to hear.”

“See! He’s just tryin’ to get me off his back! Dammit!”

Before Momota had the chance to inflect further abuse on the desk, a bespectacled boy even taller and bulkier than he was restrained him from behind. “Momota-kun! Gonta thinks that’s enough!”

“Lemme go, goddammit! I ain’t done yet!” Momota struggled.

“Gonta-kun’s right, Momota-kun,” the blonde girl said, placing a hand on Momota’s shoulder. “It’s time for you to take a deep breath and head back to your seat.”

Her words seemed to do the trick. Because Momota stopped trashing about, Gonta loosened his hold and let go of him. Panting, Momota rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “Tryin’ to play the part of class rep, eh, Akamatsu? Well, I guess we did pick ya for the job,” Momota said, but not without staring daggers at Hoshi. “Tch… It’s tirin’ to be the only one gettin’ psyched. This guy’s fire? All snuffed out.” He shook his head. “What a waste.”

Having pulled his pack of chocolate cigarettes out of his jacket, Hoshi shook one loose and grabbed it with his teeth.

Momota took a deep breath.

Hoshi reclined on his chair to stare at the ceiling and gave the cigarette a chew.

Frowning, Momota groaned and headed to his seat. Akamatsu followed after him, glancing over her shoulder to check on Hoshi, as though anticipating a change in his attitude; Hoshi paid mind to his cigarette and his cigarette alone, however. Saihara began to open his mouth, but snapped to stare at his own desk instead. Gonta was the last to leave, sitting in the back row next to Hoshi.

“I told you they wouldn’t fight,” a girl with long twintails stated matter-of-factly. “I believe the two of you owe me 1000 yen, each. Pay up.”

“Aaah, I just can’t beat Harukawa-chan when it comes to violence!” said the boy in the white suit. “Unfortunately, I’ve spent all my pocket money for the week. You see, on the way to school I met this very hungry cat, so I bought—”

“You aren’t going to sweet talk your way out of this, Ouma,” Harukawa said. “I saw you shoving a bunch of bills in Iruma’s face when you first made the bet. Don’t force me to make you cough them up.”

Ouma cackled in spite of the sweat rolling down his face. “No worries, Harukawa-chan, it was only a small, harmless lie! Here,” he said, handing her a 1000 yen bill. He bit on his thumb’s nail. “I was going to buy water balloons with that.”

“Too bad. Now, Iruma,” Harukawa turned to face her, but where she had once stood air was all that remained. “This is pointless,” Harukawa said, striding in search of Iruma at an impossibly quick pace.

Because their teacher entered the classroom at that moment, however, she retreaded, her mission postponed. Coming seemingly out of nowhere, Iruma winked at Harukawa before sitting down.

Hoshi had spectated the entire act from the corner of his eye. Not only that, he had witnessed the backstage trick behind Iruma’s disappearance act. While Harukawa had busied herself with Ouma, Iruma had tiptoed to a corner of the classroom, fumbled a bolt of cloth from her chest, and spread a curtain to conceal herself. There was a catch: The curtain’s surface had a sort of reflective property which resulted in quasi-invisibility.

_S_ _hould borrow it from her one day,_ Hoshi thought.

Class started. Resting his chin in his hand, Hoshi turned to his favourite classmate, the window with view to the courtyard to his left. The falling cherry blossom petals ought to be more interesting than some pointless lecture about Existentialism.


	2. II

After school, Hoshi stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Academy’s tennis court. The lines were starting to fade here and there, but the nets looked brand new. The members of the Tennis Club, still burning with passion for the sport, had no doubt punctured dozens of them over the years. Hoshi himself had brought about the end to many, nets and human lives alike. A Twist Serve can be deadly when coupled with a steel ball.

Memories flooded him. The screams, the smell of blood, the innocence lost. And then there was the catalyst for all that. He let himself fall into a pit of pain, deep enough for the dark to engulf the pain and transform it into nothingness. If Hope’s Peak’s bigwigs wouldn’t let him take responsibility for his actions, then he would repent in his own ways.

The clattering of wood against concrete pulled Hoshi away from his penitence. A burly boy approached him, wearing a serious expression which eased into laughter as soon as he closed the gap between them. “Hello! I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to meet you!” His voice roared like waves crashing against a cliff. “My name is Nidai Nekomaru! Don’t forget it, even in hell!” he said, offering his right hand for Hoshi to shake.

“What do you want?” Hoshi asked, one hand in his leather jacket’s pocket, the other holding his chocolate cigarette close to his mouth.

Nidai hesitated, then folded his arms across his chest. “Well, uh, to put it bluntly… I want to be your manager!”

Hoshi’s eyelids slanted over his eyes. “Sorry, but I ain’t got anything worth managing.”

“Of course you do!” Nidai said enthusiastically. “That body of yours… I WANT IT!!”

“Woah, hold on a sec! I’m not interested in that kinda racket.”

“Uh? Aren’t you the famous tennis player, Hoshi Ryouma?”

Had the chocolate cigarette been inside Hoshi’s mouth, he would have snapped it in half when he clenched his teeth. “In the past, maybe. Not anymore.”

“Hmm… I had heard rumours about your present condition, but to think that—” Nidai chopped off the sentence, clutching his belly as he doubled over. “I… I need to—SHIT! I need to pay a visit to the stalls… but I promise, I’ll be right back! Please wait for me!”

Hoshi waited for Nidai to disappear into the locker rooms, then left.

-

The next day, Hoshi walked back to the tennis court. Before stepping out of the shadow of a corner, he caught wind of a couple of people talking around the spot where he always stood. He hid behind the corner, sipping from his can of Panta while he listened to the conversation.

“If the guy’s been locked up, doesn’t that mean he can’t play anymore?” asked a feminine yet rough-sounding voice Hoshi couldn’t place.

“It’s complicated… his case is special,” answered the booming voice belonging to the boy Hoshi had met the day before: Nidai Nekomaru. “Togami told me that that Hope’s Peak’s administration pulled a few strings with the government to give him another chance.”

“But he’s a killer, right? Why’d they bother savin’ his ass?”

“Hope’s Peak ultimate goal is to foster the greatest talents. There’s no doubt in my mind that Hoshi is one of the best, if not _the_ best, tennis players the world has ever seen. According to Nevermind, his _modus operandi_ lead him to target only mafia members. If they think it all happened because Hoshi was pushed to the limit, perhaps as revenge, they won’t consider him irredeemable. That’s what I also believe in, and why I want him out of his rot and back into tennis.”

“Eh, I see. I don’t really get it, but all this waiting’s left me starvin’! How ‘bout we go grab a bite?”

“Hmm… I wonder if he’ll come today. Considering his attitude last time, I doubt it, to be honest."

“Ya could just leave ‘im alone, y’know.”

“I mustn’t! I know what it’s like to give up on your future… And that’s why I want to help him face forward! As long as we’re alive, we all have a future!”

Hoshi couldn’t suppress a sneer. What a pile of gibberish platitudes. At any rate, he had fished the information he had been after: it didn’t seem like that Nidai guy would be giving up anytime soon.

He could always waste away his time elsewhere.

-

Hoshi was perched on a tree bough, downing yet another can of Panta. He lost himself in the sea of his thoughts, until his attention was blown ashore by the rustling of leaves.

When Hoshi tilted his head to peer over his shoulder, someone burst from the foliage. Sitting on the bough right in front of his nose was a tall, tan girl barely wearing her school uniform, with wild brown hair reaching down to her shoulders.

“‘Sup!” she greeted.

“You!” Hoshi blurted out.

“Eh? Ya know ‘bout me?” She bent forward, and sniffed at the Panta can. “Oh, this is the hella sweet scent from last time!” Her eyebrows came together. “Oi, were ya eavesdroppin’ on us?”

Hoshi jiggled the chocolate cigarette in his mouth. “I ain’t got the time to go ‘round eavesdroppin’."

That stole a chuckle from her. “Ya don’t look all that busy to me! So you’re the Hoshi Ryouma guy the old man’s searchin’ for. Can’t be anyone else, with that kinda reaction.”

“He send you after me?”

“Nah. I just happened to catch the smell of orange Panta on the way to the gates. Don’t worry, I ain’t got any plans to sell you out.”

“I see.” Hoshi reached inside his jacket to get his chocolate cigarette pack out. “You want one?”

Drooling, she nodded vigorously.

Hoshi extended the pack to her, only to have it snatched from his hands. “Hey, what’re you doin’?!”

It was too late. She had wolfed down the entirety of the pack’s contents, and looked ready to eat the cardboard, too.

“What was that?” Hoshi asked, more impressed than angry.

“A girl’s gotta eat, y’know?” she said with a smile.

Hoshi snickered. “You’re a weird one, um…” He clicked his tongue. “Right, I ain’t got your name.”

“Oh, right! Name’s Owari Akane, and I’m the Super High School Level Gymnast!”

These guys sure liked to wave their talents around. “An athlete, uh?” Hoshi said. “Figures. Nidai train you?”

“Kinda, I guess? We don’t really do gymnastics, but we fight sometimes.” Her eyes sparkled as she added, “And he does ‘it’ to me when I train super hard! It’s the best. Ya should ask him to do ‘it’ to you on’a these days. Though, a small guy like you might get addicted real easy...”

Hoshi knit his missing eyebrows. “Err, think I’ll pass.”

They sat in silence for a while, like sleeping birds.

“So,” Hoshi said, “you think he won’t give up?”

“Uh?” Owari blinked.

“That Nidai guy. He appears hellbent on gettin’ me to play tennis again.”

“Ah. Well, the old man’s not a bad person, but he can be stubborn as a mule. Don’t think he’ll let go of ya that easily.”

“Hmph,” Hoshi muttered while fiddling with the edges of his beanie. “Guess I don’t have a choice, then.” Propping his hand against the tree’s trunk, he rose to his feet, then dropped to the floor.

“Where ya goin’?”

Hoshi turned to look at her. “To the court. You coming?”

Grinning, Owari leaped to his side. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance to watch a helluva fight!”

“It’s tennis, not some martial art.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that!”

“Good grief.” Hoshi shook his head, but marched on anyway. Owari followed after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, so good! Let's see if I'm able to keep up a weekly schedule for this.


	3. III

A herd of dark clouds had begun gathering in the sky. Hoshi reckoned it would rain soon. As expected, Nidai was planted in the spot where they had first met, intensely gazing at the empty court.

“Hey, big guy,” Hoshi called out as he closed the gap between them. “Say I play a tennis game against you. Let’s also say that I win.” Drawing the candy cigarette from his mouth, he cracked a cocky smile. “In that case, would you agree to give up on me?”

Nidai burst into laughter. “Your goal is questionable, but that’s the spirit!” he said. “Very well then, I accept your terms… that is, if you’ll accept mine.”

“Spill it.”

“If _I_ win, you’ll have to let me become your manager.”

Hoshi shrugged. “Figured as much. That’s fine with me.” Nidai was only a manager, after all. Sure, Hoshi was a little rusty, but in his glory days he had been the cream of the crop in the field. He would score an easy win and take his peaceful days back.

Nidai raised his chin to look at Owari, who had been standing behind Hoshi. “Owari, please bring us the racquets and tennis balls from the supply shed.” Nodding, she set off at once. His eyes returned to Hoshi. “Should I get a referee?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I trust your judgment.”

They made the way to the court in silence, and positioned themselves at either side of the net. Nidai stood to the left with a brooding expression, while Hoshi casually chewed on his cocoa cigarette to the right. Time dragged on until Owari came back.

“Here ya go. Good luck!” she said as she handed each of them a racquet and a tennis ball, an unwavering smile on her face in spite of the solemn air of the occasion. Owari then made her way to the bleachers, sitting at the row closest to the court.

-

On their way home, Akamatsu, Saihara, Momota, and Gonta strolled by the court, engrossed in lively chatter that died off after Momota recognized Hoshi in one of the players. “What the hell is that moron doin’ with that giant guy down there?”

“Oh, Gonta knows him!” Gonta said with sparkles in his eyes. “That’s Nidai-kun, the Super High School Level Manager! He is very nice and considerate to Gonta, and always tells him he has a lot of lovely meat on him!”

“Lovely… meat?” Saihara stammered.

“More importantly,” Akamatsu said, “why is Hoshi-kun with the SHSL Manager? Don’t tell me...” Smiling widely, she clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Maybe Hoshi-kun has finally rediscovered his love for tennis!”

“Tch, as if,” Momota said, pressing a closed fist against his hip. “He’s back in court, but don’t get your hopes up. I doubt it’s his grand return to tennis or whatever. Must be somethin’ else.”

Saihara held a palm out. “That’s unusually skeptical of you, Momota-kun...”

“Gonta thinks,” Gonta said, placing his hands on the boys’ shoulders, “that we should go watch Hoshi-kun together! Gentlemen should always cheer for their friends!”

Akamatsu flexed her arms into fist pumps. “Gonta-kun is right! Let’s go!” she said, grabbing Saihara and Momota by their wrists and dragging them down the stairs with her. Radiant, Gonta followed after them.

“Hey, who’re you guys?” Owari asked when the quartet approached the bleachers. “Just so we’re clear, this ain’t some official tennis match. Unless...” She scratched her inner ear. “Oh, are you Hoshi’s classmates or somethin’?”

Saihara stared at her open-mouthed. “What impressive deductive reasoning!”

“I think that it was more of a stroke of luck, Saihara-kun,” Akamatsu said.

Momota cut to the chase. “On paper, at least. There’s no way we can be proper classmates to an asshole like that.”

“Uh? He seemed pretty chill… he bully you?” Owari asked.

“N-no, not at all!” Saihara interjected. “Momota-kun, what’s gotten into you? Hoshi-kun may keep his distance from us, but he’s no—”

In spite of the interruption, Momota stayed focused on Owari alone. “You know why he’s playin’ against the SHSL Manager?”

“Well, ‘bout that...”

-

Rain started splashing on the pavement, covering it with well-spaced drops. Hoshi leaned on his tennis racquet as it stood pressed against the floor. “You sure about having me serve? That’ll give me a huge advantage.”

Nidai threw his tennis ball, clenching a fist in front of his face as it bounced away. “I WAS BORN SUUUURE!!”

Hoshi could swear he saw sparks flying from his eyes. “Hmph. Whatever floats your boat.” He spat his candy cigarette, coiling his body before tossing the tennis ball he had been holding into the air. His racquet smashed against it, giving the ball a blistering inside spin: Hoshi’s famed Twist Serve. _There’s no way he can respond to my special technique. He’s probably only mastered the basic tennis fare,_ Hoshi thought.

Nidai stood still, observing the ball’s trajectory. At the last split second, he lunged at it. “METEOR SMAAAASH!!”

Hoshi didn’t even have a chance to blink. As the name Nidai had screamed implied, the ball came crashing down. Scrambling for the block, Hoshi was pushed back as the ball spun against his racquet.

_Th-this power!_

Before Hoshi could finish his return, however, the sheer force of the Meteor Smash’s impact sent him out of bounds.

“Love-fifteen,” Nidai announced.

The rain was falling harder. That game wasn’t going to be an easy win, after all.

-

“Should Gonta bring umbrellas to protect everyone from the rain?”

“We’ll be fine, Gonta-kun,” Saihara reassured. “I’m more worried about Hoshi-kun… do you think he’ll be all right?”

"The old man won't hold back, that's for sure," Owari pitched in.

“We have to believe in Hoshi-kun,” Akamatsu said. “Things aren’t looking good at the moment, but he's a pro tennis player. I’m sure he will make a comeback once his old instincts are back in gear.”

Gonta raised his hand. “Gonta agrees! He believes in Hoshi-kun, too!”

In spite of all the cheer around him, Momota said nothing as he observed the match, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined in front of his frowning face.

Akamatsu placed a hand on his left arm. “Momota-kun?”

With the rain as their ticking clock, a few seconds crept by.

“...We’ll see,” Momota said at last.

-

“Love-forty.”

 _Dammit,_ Hoshi thought, _it’s now or never. This isn’t the first time I’ve made a comeback in a situation like this… I have to get a grip. There’s only so many special techniques a manager like him can know._

For the fourth time, Hoshi performed his Twist Serve.

The trajectory of the ball had become more and more unpredictable as Hoshi improved his spin, although Nidai was nonetheless capable of discerning it, belying his status as “just a manager”. Nidai swung his racquet with a speed imperceptible to the human eye, making the ball invisible after being hit.

Panting, Hoshi raced to return a ball he couldn’t see. He had heard rumours about the fabled Invisible Swing, but he never would have thought that a manager like Nidai had mastered it.

The ball bounced once.

Hoshi had a faint idea of where it might be. The rainfall hindered his senses, but he could make out the whisper of the ball’s spin.

_Hurry._

There it was! Almost in contact with the pavement, two arm’s-lengths away. Hoshi threw himself sideways, diving for the ball, stretching his arm as much as he could to somehow hit it, to somehow return it…

“Game.”

Hoshi hit the floor with a thud. The ball rolled in front of his nose. He laid still, eyes wide open like twin black holes drawing all light from his body.

-

Momota shook his head. He rose to his feet and walked away from the bleachers, turning his back to Hoshi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week was tricky, but the weekly schedule is still live! Next week's chapter should be a little lighter...


End file.
